


Watching Cameron

by Hughville



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, House and Cameron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hughville/pseuds/Hughville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times House watched Cameron without her knowing.  Five drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Cameron

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles were written for a prompt at the Live Journal community, hughvillefics.

The First Time:

Slumping back in his chair, he watches as she talks to Wilson about paper work in Human Resources and getting a hospital badge to wear on her lab coat. He watches as she stands and holds out her slender hand to him. She smiles uncertainly as she waits for him to grasp it.

“Monday,” he reminds her gruffly ignoring her outstretched hand. “Eight o'clock. If you're late, don't bother coming back.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “I won't be late.”

He turns his chair so his back faces her. The sound of Wilson's voice buzzes in his ears and he resists the urge to stick his fingers in them to block it out. He needs time to think and collect himself. Very few women have the effect on him that Allison Cameron does. He can already feel her worming her way under his skin and he just met her.

Slowly, he rises, leaning heavily on his cane and walks to the window that looks out over the parking lot. Watching people come and go, he waits. Finally he sees her, her hair gleaming like brown silk in the bright sunlight. She is talking on her cellphone. Once she reaches her car, she leans against the door and continues to talk. Finally, she closes her phone and stands for a moment, her face lifted toward the sky and she smiles. His breath catches in his throat. Even at this distance, she is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Turning from the window, he rubs his right thigh. He sighs and tries to focus on other things. No matter what he does, he can't get the sight of her upturned face out of his mind.

 

The Second Time

People like her. He corrects himself as he leans against the column across from the nurses station. People love her. Two weeks on his team and she's already made more friends than he has during his entire time at the hospital. Even Wilson likes her. He grips his cane until his knuckles are white. Cameron's laugh floats over to him like music. Wilson puts his hand on her shoulder and she dips her head, still laughing. A burning starts in the pit of his stomach, hot, sharp and unpleasant as he watches his best friend laugh with her. When Wilson leans one elbow on the counter and continues to talk to her, the burning spreads. It spreads like a fire out of control and a veil of red seems to drop over his eyes. He can feel the sharp edge of the column digging into his shoulder. When Wilson leans toward her and she lifts her face to look at him, House pushes away from his hiding place and limps quickly away. Other people may like her but he doesn't. He stops in front of the elevator and tries to control his breathing. Other people may fall for her sweet, caring charms but not him. As the elevator doors slide open, he glances over his shoulder. Wilson is gone and she is reading a chart. House moves slowly into the elevator car. No, he doesn't like her at all.

 

The Third Time

She is good with patients; caring, compassionate and empathetic. The patients like her and trust her. They tell her things they don't tell anyone else. He stands on the far side of the nurse's station watching her talk to his latest patient. He can't tolerate the woman's whining about her pain so he avoids her. Cameron sits with her, listening patiently, holding her hand. He softly thumps his cane against the floor. He's in more pain than that tiresome woman but Cameron never sits with him, or holds his hand. She listens to him because she has to, because he's her boss and he can fire her. He should fire her. He will fire her. She isn't tough enough to work for him. His eyes narrow as Cameron and the patient share a quiet laugh. She doesn't laugh with him. She smiles occasionally when he says something that amuses her but she never laughs. Dropping his head, he stares at his hand curled around the wooden handle of his cane. He can't fire her. She's the only one who helps him solve the puzzles.

 

The Fourth Time

He slouches in his chair, watching his team in the other room. The door between his office and the conference room is open so he can hear them. Chase is telling lame jokes that make Cameron and Foreman shake their heads but they still laugh. Cameron rises and moves to the small kitchenette in the corner. She is wearing one her ridiculous vests over a pale pink shirt. Her long, dark hair is twisted into a haphazard knot exposing the pale nape of her neck. The vests are bad enough but it's her damn pants that he hates the most. The material hugs the curves of each ass cheek as well as the length of her legs. He watches as she bends over to get something from one of the bottom cabinets. An image of her naked flashes in his mind's eye. Without realizing, his eyes drift shut and he can see her in his bedroom. Her hair flows down her back like a glossy brown cloak. She bends down to retrieve her clothes, her pale skin glowing in the diffuse light of his bedroom. He gasps and his eyes pop open. With a grunt of pain, he rises from his chair. Passing through the conference room, he growls a command for Chase to cover his clinic hours. Cameron turns to look at him in surprise. He stares at her for several moments and then walks out of the room as quickly as his leg will allow and down the hall to Wilson's office. As he limps along, he wonders if he can order Cameron to wear her lab coat at all times. He sighs. Probably not. For some reason, that makes him smile.

 

The Fifth Time:

The shower room is quiet. He huddles in a corner, rubbing his right thigh. Cameron is on the warpath. Is it his fault the patient can't stop throwing up no matter how many drugs they pump into his system? Is it his fault Cameron is usually the one the poor bastard spews on? When the door slams open and then shut again, House holds his breath and waits. The lock clicks into place and the sound of Cameron's angry voice bounces off the tiles. He peeks around the corner with a smirk. She is using language that would make a drunken sailor blush and each curse is about him. He knows she's already changed clothes four times today. He watches as she kicks her shoes off and then jerks her scrub top over her head. Her scrub pants follow and he swallows hard at the sight of her in her underwear. The puke soaked through to her flesh colored bra and she jerks it off before throwing it on the floor. He stares transfixed as she removes her panties. He actually stops breathing and his heart beats so fast he can feel the blood pumping through his veins. She tugs her hair loose and the dark strands fall over her shoulders brushing the firm curve of her breasts. As she steps into the shower, she calls out, “You owe me new clothes, new underwear, and new shoes, you sneaky bastard!” House leans back against the wall and laughs. He should have known that he can't fool her. She knows him too well. He smiles and begins to twirl his cane. Maybe he does like her just a little bit.


End file.
